(TCBTB)

Sunday, October 11, 2015

playroom update!

:: This post contains affiliate links. (But not to Ikea. Unfortunately.)

All my plans for updating our playroom kind of went off the rails this spring when my mom got sick. I was away from home a lot, and when I was at home, I wasn't really in a playroom-design headspace, you know? Still, the room has evolved, with and without my assistance.


Although this room still doesn't quite feel finished or right, it's just a wee bit different from back in the day. Last February, I decided to add some bookcases to flank the piano. Then, in the middle of March, I decided to change up the paint color. In April, I built a little bookshelf dollhouse. In May, though, my mom got sick - aaand that's where I pretty much got stuck. At least, until the last few weeks.

Really, it was Rowan's birthday that got me moving again, for a couple reasons. First, the playroom is mostly designed around what she loves to play with at any given time, and that has definitely changed recently. Between outgrowing old toys and receiving new ones for her birthday, it was high time to swap out the playroom's contents. Second, what's more motivating than having a bunch of guests over, like we did for her birthday party?! I'm telling you, if you're ever in a decorating or cleaning rut, plan a house party.

In anticipation of having people over (even though I'm sure 98% of those people never noticed these changes!), I was finally able to tackle some of the playroom details that had been hanging over my head since May. I organized the shelves, finally found the right bins for the toys (from Target), added pictures to empty frames, and re-hung the wall art - all of which left the room looking as it does today.

Here's a look at the playroom before and after, going clockwise around:











It's so crazy for me to look at these comparison pictures and see how much lighter and brighter everything is! And even though I was a little worried at first that the new bookshelves made the room look too busy, they've grown on me. Plus, you can't beat them in terms of functionality. We could actually fit a lot more toys on here if we needed to; instead, we ran out of toys to store on the new shelves and had to add some fillers.

Here are some close-ups of the new bookcases:




All in all, I'm pretty happy with how it's looking these days! And, more to the point, with how it's functioning. This is Rowan's go-to room. She trashes it multiple times throughout the day, which is good - that means she's using it (or so I tell myself). The bins make it easy (for both her and me) to clean up quickly. I love that there are shelves of toys within her reach, but also shelves that are too high for her, which means I can keep fragile items (decor, CDs, etc.) safe but still in the room. Plus, it's great that there's a wide open space in the center of the room. I usually rotate some bigger toys for that area - a slide, a rocking horse, a play house - and she also just uses it for playing: building train tracks, dumping puzzles out (and occasionally putting them together), or playing doctor with a line-up of baby dolls, multiple Elsas and Annas, and her Spiderman guy.

Here's a source list of the newer items for the nosy folks (like me).

:: RUG: This is the Mohawk Candy Craze rug, which I purchased from Amazon. I'm not sure the large size is available anymore, which is too bad, because it is the perfect playroom rug. Soft, warm, colorful, and cleans up easily (but also hides any stains that might not come out!). I love it.

:: WALLS: This color (Benjamin Moore's Gray Owl) is such an improvement over the gold-toned brown from before. I did love that color, but it was just too dark for the room. Plus, between the rug and the toys on display, it's nice to have a more neutral background. It's not quite the right shade of gray for me (I prefer the gray from her nursery, Benjamin Moore's Abalone), but it's not going anywhere anytime soon.

:: BOOKCASES: All three bookcases in the room are from Ikea. The two tall ones are Billy bookcases, and the lower bookshelf is an Expedit (which is now sold as the Kallax series).

:: WALL ART: The dude on a bike is an Ikea poster in an Ikea frame, and the Emerson quote print is from Etsy, also in an Ikea frame.


As usual, I don't feel like I'm completely finished with this room. There are still some things I'd like to work on. I never added trim or moulding to the bookcases, which would make them look more finished and built in. The lamp on the low bookshelf isn't the right height. I wish the chair covers were gray instead of brown. Honestly, though, those things are way down on my list of priorities these days, so we'll see how the room evolves from here!

Thursday, October 8, 2015

TBT to 1992: "Maybe I'll Turn Out Okay After All."

Hello, readers, and welcome to a new entry in the most embarrassing series of posts I've thought up yet: TBTs to my middle school journal. Honestly, most of my original journal is boring or makes no sense or is just weird drawings (the R.E.M. fan-fiction didn't show up until my high school journals), but a few of the entries beg to be made public. Just in case I ever start thinking I've got my shit together or something, I can re-read these and be instantly transported back to the early '90s, when sisters were the WORST OMG and Nintendo was the BEST OMG, and I was awkward as hell.


Sixth grade: When my mom made me get a perm, but I refused to allow them to perm
the top - only the sides; and when I wore a plaid v-neck jumper for picture day.
Also when I "rated" every picture in my yearbook, only to go back later and
Wite-Out all the ratings. No, I don't know why.

The following journal entry, from when I was an eleven-year-old sixth-grader, is especially embarrassing because anyone I went to middle school with will 100% recognize the name of my crush. But whatever, ladies; you know you were all crushing on him, too.

********************
February 21, 1992
     I wrote a few letters to Naoki, telling him I like him. I signed them "Your Secret Admirer." I gave him clues to figure out who I am. In the last note, I asked him to, if he knew who I was, write me back telling me if he liked me or not.
     (Probably or not.)
     I gave him my locker number - #2171 - and told him to stick the note through the vent of my locker A.S.A.P.
     He didn't.
     That was the day school let out for Winter Break - Valentine's Day. The week before that - on Feb. 7, a Friday - there was the Valentine's Day Dance. We danced, like we've done at all of the other dances.
     I think (and hope) he likes me. Enough to go out with me.
     Mom and Dad don't know about this, but if Mari finds this journal, they'll know in about two seconds. Okay, so I'm exaggerating.
     Mom has met Naoki before, and she knows I like him (I think), and I think she likes him.
     I hope.
     I really hope.
     By the way, in my last entry, I said I changed my mind about killing that fly. Well, I didn't kill him. And if I had, I would've immediately felt terrible, begged the after-life to send him back, give him mouth-to-mouth recipitation, or anything. And if that didn't work, I'd send up a prayer, saying I was sorry. Then I would've given him a funeral, burying him where no one would step on his little grave.
     BUT!!!
     I didn't kill him!
     Maybe I'll turn out okay after all. Maybe Naoki likes me.
     (And maybe not - to both!)
********************

Okay. OKAY. Let's break this down:

  1. Naoki was so totally cute, and funny, and smart. I was right to pursue him. High-five through the space-time continuum, Sixth-Grade Cathy!
  2. We did indeed dance at all the dances, in the classic middle school dance pose: arms stuck straight out in front of us and heads turned aggressively to opposite sides, so as to avoid the potential for any eye contact during Boyz II Men's "End of the Road".
  3. But I was wrong about thinking my mom would like him. After all, his dad let Naoki drive his car in a parking lot while Naoki was sitting on his dad's lap, with a few of us other sixth-graders in the backseat. This was while we were supposed to be doing a group project for school at Naoki's house. Yeah.
  4. Why was I even concerned with my parents' opinions on this dude?! Did I think I was going to marry him or something?
  5. FOR THE RECORD, Naoki ended up leaving some mysterious hockey trading cards in my locker later in the school year...right before he moved back to Japan. But that means my feelings were TOTES reciprocated, even if it was too late to act on them.
  6. Speaking of reciprocation, wtf is up with the fly interlude? "Mouth-to-mouth recipitation"? Close, Cath, but not quite. And "send up a prayer"? Where had I even heard that phrase? Maybe Vacation Bible Camp with friends or something. Definitely not from my household.
  7. I really love that my faith in my own future is dependent on whether or not I killed that fly. Maybe I'll turn out okay after all. I'm fairly certain I plagiarized that line from a Paula Danziger book. And, P.S., I did draw a picture of the fly that I almost killed in the previous entry. But no, I'm not including that here. Maybe next week.

Happy Throwback Thursday!


Sunday, October 4, 2015

a tired metaphor. (actually, simile.)

What can I say, other than that this weekend was like a carousel? I chose the horse with the creepiest expression, because those make for the best pictures, and hoisted myself into the saddle. Up, down, high, low, through Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

********************
THE HIGHS

Friday night, the horse rode high. Rowan and I were invited to dinner at our friends' beautiful new house. (J.J. was invited, too, but he had to work late.) Their boys were so gentle with Rowan, who loved every minute of kicking their soccer balls around and dismantling their Lego creations. Plus, they gave her her first Spiderman guy, who hasn't left her side since. On the drive home, way past her bedtime, my girl exclaimed over and over, "A sunset over there! And there, and there, and there!" I said, "It's everywhere! Isn't it gorgeous?" (It really was - better than any I've seen, even in Hawaii.) And Rowan replied, "Yeah, gorgeous, just like Mama." I swear I'm not making that up. High, high, high.



Clearly doesn't do it justice, but it was unreal.
(Edited to add: MLive actually posted an article about the amazing sunsets lately.)

Saturday morning, I was still cruising high. Rowie randomly cried out at 6:15, which jolted me out of a sound sleep, but she fell quiet again. I took the opportunity to go online and check out my. very. first. published. piece. of. writing. holy. SHIT. Undoubtedly the highest high of the weekend, something from my brain (MY BRAIN) appeared on the Scary Mommy website. I had to keep knocking my inner critic off my carousel horse all day Saturday, even though she kept jumping up to remind me that I wish I'd phrased that one part differently, and to question whether I should email my contact about the copy errors or just stay mum, and to laugh in my ear, "Too bad you still need to get a REAL job, sucka!" You all - my friends and family, my People - were ridiculously supportive, though, sharing the link and commenting with positive feedback, which basically felt like taking a swim in warm apple cider. (That should SO be an attraction at Three Cedars.) (And here's the link to my article, even though if you're reading this, you probably already saw it: 11 Toddler Games That Are the Worst.) High, high, high.

I had dinner with my long-lost (as in, we haven't hung out in a couple weeks) big sister on Saturday night. We have a propensity for making each other cry-laugh repeatedly, the conversation devolving into tears streaming down our faces as we snort and gasp for breath between peals of laughter. A couple hours of that, over garlic bread and eggplant parmesan? Good for the soul. High, high, high.


We went to an adorable tailgate-themed birthday party on Saturday morning and an awesome nature-themed birthday party on Sunday morning (at the Leslie Science Center - it was spot-on for our group of two-year-olds! So fun). At the Sunday birthday party, which was for one of the kiddos from my new-mom group, we lined our toddlers up in front of a fireplace and snapped photos of them, just like we used to do when they were little babies. Two years now I've known these mamas, and I'm seriously thankful at least once a day for them and for the kind of supportive, loving mothering community I never knew I could have. High, high, high.



^^ Has basically been on a birthday-cake-induced sugar high for a week straight.

********************
THE LOWS

It's the nature of the carousel, right? The horses go up, the horses go down.


On Saturday afternoon, juxtaposed against a birthday party and a dream come true, my sisters and I went home to clean out my mom's closet. 


And I know. I know my mom would be proud of me and excited for me about the Scary Mommy article. But what I want to know is exactly what she'd say about it. 


Oh, and there's a fucking rodent that's nesting in the dead ceiling space between our family room and Rowan's bedroom. So obviously it's eventually going to scritch-scratch its way either straight down onto the couch (where I'm sitting to type this right now), or through the floor of Rowan's room to play with her in the night. I hate that rodent.


********************

Somehow, over the course of the weekend, the horse was all the way up and all the way down at the same exact time. And that sensation, in the end, is exhausting.

Thankful for donuts, hot cider, Sunday night, and my partner right now. (And the Fear the Walking Dead finale, where maybe something will actually finally happen but probably not.)




Thursday, October 1, 2015

TBT to 1993: "All I Have To Get Is JEANS."

Ohhhh my god. OH MY GOD.

I found my journal from when I was in middle school. Oh, it's soooo good, you guys. Have you ever heard of Mortified? It's a forum (website, live storytelling events, compilation books, Podcast) for sharing your super-angsty writings from the tween and teen years. I have their first book, and it's beyond hilarious. This journal of mine...



...belongs in a Mortified hall of fame (shame?). I've been cringing over it all night - over lines like, "I turned over and stared at the TV, not hearing a word that Mark-Paul Gosselaar from SBTB was saying" (March 14, 1992, age eleven). Gotta love how I protected it with my fierce warning: DO NOT READ!!

I just have to share this gem with you from when I was thirteen, which I'll title "All I Have To Get Is Jeans." Here it is in its unedited glory:

********************
December 5, 1993
     What am I supposed to do? What? I've been telling Mom over and over that I needed new jeans, that I only had two pairs. She wouldn't listen. And now one of those pairs has a hole in them. What am I supposed to do? Wear the other pair every day? She considers my jeans "good clothes." She complains that I wear my "good clothes" on the weekends. And I can't get one pair of jeans washed, because then all I have for a week is the other pair, which I wear every day. Gross! But what can I do?
     What should I do? What? I don't know what I'm supposed to do!
     Why has my life been so crappy lately? WHY? WHAT THE HECK DID I DO WRONG? I try my hardest, and I get almost straight A's. Is that so horrible? I really can't see anything wrong with that.
     All I want to do is kill myself. I die. All my problems go away, they're gone, poof. But how do I do that?
     No, killing myself won't work.
     All I have to get is jeans. But Christmas is twenty days away! That means fourteen more school days. Great. Wonderful. Just great. I get to wear dirty jeans until Christmas. Maybe even longer, because I have a feeling that, even though I was really looking forward to this Christmas, this is going to be an awful Christmas.
     Just like the rest of my life.
     Awful.
********************

BAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

LOLLLZZZZZ FOR DAYYYYYYYS

I'm so glad to know that my angsty and melodramatic journaling had a strong start. My, my, resorting to suicide because my denim selection was tragically limited? Awful Christmas, awful life, EVEN THOUGH I was getting almost straight A's. OH LIFE, YOU CRUEL AND HEARTLESS WENCH.

Yeah. Mortifying.



Happy Thursday, and you're welcome, and oh my god.


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